


spider-man is a gimmick

by youheldyourbreath



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, For reasons, Sorry Not Sorry, i took it upon myself to fix that, okay, peter and mj use the shower, so like why hasn't this fandom written sexy times yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11533872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youheldyourbreath/pseuds/youheldyourbreath
Summary: Michelle doesn't like Spider-man. Or, well, to be more specific he's her least favorite Avenger. Her boyfriend, Peter, really wants her to like him for some unknown reason. Why does that spandex-wearing spider thing matter so much?





	spider-man is a gimmick

MJ thinks Spider-man is overrated. Of all of the Avengers ("he's not a real Avenger", Ned always points out), he seems to be the most like a gimmick. Everyone else has either magic powers, she uses magic because she has not discovered a scientific explanation yet but Michelle is a woman of science and she's certain there has to be one, or they use machinery. Their suits are armor and steel. Spider-man wears spandex and that doesn't feel especially heroic to her. In fact, its sort of lame.

 

Her boyfriend vehemently disagrees. Every time she so much as mentions the tight-wearing, Avenger-in-training, Peter gets his back up and defends him like he's his brother or something. She knows that Peter vaguely knows Spider-man, that they worked together during his Stark internship, but that is no reason for him to get all up her ass about this brand of superhero.

 

"I think he's braver than most of the Avengers because he doesn't have any armor. He's just, you know, your friendly neighborhood Spider-man. He looks out for the little guys," Peter reasons one time.

 

Michelle rolls her eyes and curls up in his lap, its her favorite place since they started dating. His hand easily finds the small of her waist and she kisses his sour pout, "I'm not saying he's not good at what he does. Just that he's not my favorite."

 

"What? He's too mainstream for you?" Peter grumps.

 

MJ tangles her hands in his floppy hair and her mouth kisses every inch of skin available to her. She feels his mood began to melt away under her touch. "Oh yeah," she teases, "Too mainstream for this hipster."

 

He smiles bright and flips her onto her back on his couch. She sees him look at the door like he's considering when May will be back home. Whatever he decides seem to be enough time because he leaning over her and kissing her harshly, "You're exhausting."

 

"You like it," she quips. And the conversation is forgotten. 

 

Of course, the fact that Michelle isn't overly fond of Spider-man doesn't just go away. Every so often either Ned or Peter will bring it up like they want her to change her mind. She's not one that is so easily changed, though; not that the boys give up. 

 

Michelle doesn't hate Spider-man, she grows sick of saying, he's just not her favorite. 

 

And then, she figures out why the boys are so intent on her liking Spider-man. Why Peter will sometimes kiss her with an edge whenever she mentions her distaste of the masked spider-guy. 

 

She figures it out because she gets fucking kidnapped. Like some damsel-in-distress. 

 

Michelle is leaving decathlon practice when it happens. 

 

She is listening to the rhythm and blues station on spotify, or at least trying to, nothing they are selecting is any good, when her eyes spot the van. It's white and is not even pretending to not be shady. Michelle turns around to avoid passing the van when she bumps into a hooded man. She remembers yelping in surprise and then...nothing.

 

When she wakes up the first thing she tastes is iron in her mouth. No, not iron, blood. It's her blood. Her head aches like she's been hit and she thinks that's probably how they knocked her out. She spits a bit of blood on to the concrete floor and when her eyes focus she realizes she's in a room with no windows. 

 

Her hands are tied and when she tries to pull them free she feels the sharp pain of rope burn. Her stomach drops. 

 

The door flies open and the man she assumes kidnapped her strolls in. He has an easy swagger like he knows something she doesn't and the spitfire side of MJ wants to kick him. 

 

He drags a chair along the concrete floor and it scratches an unpleasant tune before he plants himself in front of her. His smirk is lazy and terrifying. But Michelle lifts her chin, if he expects her to go down she won't do it without a little fight. 

 

"Michelle Jones, I've been watching you."

 

"That's a weird way to start this, guy," she snarks. 

 

He chuckles low and throaty, "And Parker likes this? The attitude?"

 

"Parker," she begins, but then falls short. Peter. This is about Peter. Her eyes cloud with confusion. Peter Parker is her boyfriend, sure, but that didn't explain why she was tied up in some windowless room in god-knows-where.

 

She sees in his gaze when he realizes she doesn't understand. And MJ hates him a little more for being one step ahead. "He didn't tell you?" He says like its delicious. 

 

"Tell me what?" she demands. Her jaw aches from the punch he must have landed on her earlier. 

 

"He'll come for you," he says with no context. MJ fumes. "And when he does, you'll know. And then, as soon as you know, as soon as he sees you here, I'm going to kill you." Her blood turns to ice. "Relax now, little lady, it won't be long."

 

He leaves her alone, after, tied to the chair and helpless. She never imagined that she would die in such a dark place. She had always hoped she would go out after a life-lived full of adventures sitting on the porch with a partner that shared those adventures, too. Lately, when she dreamed up this future that partner was Peter. And even in old age he had that boyish glint to his eyes. 

 

She tried not to mourn that future, really. But she was alone and seventeen and about to die. She wasn't sure when the tears started but once they began she could not stop them. She was going to die and there was so much she had never seen and done. Dying in high school was evil. There should be some kind of rule against dying in the most undisputed awkward part of a person's life.

 

MJ wanted to hug her parents one more time. Tell her little brother a bed time story about his favorite Avenger, Spider-man. Kiss Peter like she had that first time after decathlon practice in the passenger seat of his car.

 

Even now, in this dark place, she could imagine his dumbfounded face after she had kissed him that night. She could see the surprise and the delight. And she could feel the pressure on her wrist from where he grabbed her wrist gently to keep her from leaving the car. She could taste the press of his mouth against hers, shy and excited, when he kissed her again. 

 

She would probably never have that again. Because Peter wasn't coming for her. That man was mistaken. Peter Parker was an eighteen year old boy. His resources were limited. Save Tony Stark but his boss was never going to use his money and influence to find MJ. She was a nobody.

 

Michelle heard a cry come from upstairs. Another crash. 

 

Something was happening. Someone was here. MJ did not let her heart patter in hope. For all she knew, the goons were fighting amongst themselves and even if someone had come for her, there was no guarantee they'd find her.

 

And then, she heard his voice. It was desperate and animalistic. "MJ! MICHELLE!?! MJ, DAMMIT, ANSWER ME!"

 

Peter was here. Her heart clutched in fear. Her stupid, idiot boyfriend. What was he thinking? He'd die here. "Peter!" she yelled back, "Get out of here! Run!"

 

"MJ," he grunted out. There was a momentary lapse in a response. She heard the cries of more goons upstairs and the whoosh of some kind of launcher. "MJ," he tried again, but he sounded winded, "Where are you?"

 

The door flew open. She looked up and her heart plummeted. It was the man again, not Peter. He drew a knife and cut her loose from the chair. MJ seized the moment and tried to struggle free but he landed the hilt of the knife into her head. She blacked out for just a moment but by the time she had her bearings again, the man was holding the knife to her throat and ordering her to march upstairs. 

 

When she came into the room she saw Spider-man and MJ felt her mind pulse in confusion. 

 

The superhero was not focused on her, though, but instead the knife digging into her throat, aimed to kill. The man behind her hissed into her ear loud enough for Spider-man to hear, "You came, I knew you'd come."

 

"Where's Peter?" MJ demanded, she couldn't help herself. She had to see him one last time. If she was going to die she did not want to die in a room of strangers. 

 

"You stupid girl," the assailant hissed, "Spider-man is your precious Peter."

 

It all hit her like a wave. Years of friendship, six months of dating all gave her clues. She knew Peter better than anyone. But there had always been parts of him that made her conscious prickle with curiosity and confusion, she had always just assumed he was busy with the Stark internship and that puberty made him weird. Not that he was, not that he could ever be...Spider-man.

 

She said dumbfounded, "Is that why you always defended Spider-man?"

 

Peter ripped the mask off his face, "I wanted to tell you...I was afraid it'd put you in danger."

 

"A little late for that," she managed to joke. Her heart was thudding as the cold of the blade bit into her skin. 

 

"Enough," the assailant choked, "I want you to watch this, Parker."

 

"Please," Peter whispered. He took a cautious step forward, "Please, she has nothing to do with this. Whatever I did to you...she was no part of."

 

"Whatever you did?" he said, incredulously. "You don't even know who I am, do you? Thanos attacked New York. My wife was in the building you and the Avengers tore down to fall on him."

 

Peter's eyes flickered with insurmountable sadness. "We thought that building was evacuated. I didn't learn until after there were people still inside."

 

"Seven people," he replied, "Seven. My wife was one of them."

 

"I know their names," Peter said, his voice thick with regret. "You have no idea how sorry I am."

 

"Sorry doesn't bring her back!" he snapped.

"Neither does killing MJ. Please, please. Let her go. You can have me. Anything. Just not MJ."

 

"I'm not," MJ said darkly, "a stand-in for anybody's wife. I am my own person. You don't get to murder me as a stand-in for your loss." MJ did the most reckless thing of her young life, she lifted her elbow and knocked her kidnapper in the face. Hard. He dropped the knife and staggered back. She briefly thanked whatever god was looking out for her. He could have staggered back with the knife still in her hand and then she'd be dead. 

 

Peter stared on, alarmed and frozen. MJ internally rolled her eyes and yelled, "Web him up, Parker. Dammit!"

 

Peter shook his head free of whatever cobwebs were keeping him from acting and shot at her assailant. He managed to web him up against the wall, pinned him up and then he started speaking to no one in particular, "Karen, get Tony. Send the police."

 

A robotic voice replied, "Very good, Peter. Calling Avengers headquarters."

 

The next hour went by in a blur. The men were arrested, Michelle was interviewed but not before the real Tony Stark suggested she keep the whole Peter-is-an-Avenger thing to herself and then, finally, Peter took her home.

 

Her parents were out of town with her little brother at a conference. When she called them to tell them what happened they told her they'd be home as soon as possible. They planned to book plane tickets home four days early. And then, they told her to have someone sleep over to keep her company. They didn't want her alone.

 

Peter, obviously, volunteered.

 

Later that night, once everything had settled, Peter and Michelle were dropped off at Michelle's apartment. Tony handed her a delicate watch, "Wear this always, okay?"

 

"Why?" she said, her voice hollow. 

 

"It's got a tracking device in it." She started to argue but he hushed her up, "If you're going to be dating an Avenger, you need some kind of protection. If not for your sake, for Peter's."

 

Michelle glanced over at Peter that had been oddly quiet since the whole ordeal. His eyes looked at the watch like a lifeline. MJ sighed but nodded, "Okay. But don't start stalking me, Stark."

 

"Only if I can't find the kid," Tony jokes and MJ gives a weak smile back. She even tries to send one Peter's way but he looks the most serious she's ever seen him. He's eyes are focused but hazy and his lips are rigid in a straight line, like showing any kind of emotion is impossible. 

 

Tony sends MJ on her way upstairs but tells Peter to hang back. He wants to talk to him for a minute. MJ dutifully leaves the two to their conversation and heads upstairs into her apartment. 

 

She feels the pressures of the day, the pain in her body. She needs to be clean of it. Maybe that is why she decides to shower. Michelle kicks off her clothes in the bathroom and turns the water from cold to scalding. While it warms up she looks in the mirror for the first time. Her one eye and cheekbone are blackening to a bruise. Her lip is split and she looks exhausted. 

 

Michelle makes herself stand in front of the mirror a little longer. She even takes the tame to stare at the light cut on her neck from where he could have ended it all. She stares even longer. She is a survivor and these are just her battle scars to prove it.

 

Only after she's had her fill of looking does she climb into the shower.

 

The water is almost too warm but it makes her feel everything and right now that is what she wants. 

 

Her eyes close and she lets the water spray over her, delightful and too warm. Then, she feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her wet body. She leans back into that familiar chest and whispers, "Peter."

 

"I'm so sorry," he chokes out. His voice sounds like he's been crying and she turns around to catch his face with her hands. He has been crying, that much she can tell. "MJ," he whimpers, "I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault."

 

She wants to say something encouraging, something loving but instead she says, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-" he kisses her gently, like he can't believe she's real and MJ allows this feeling and the water take over for a moment. When he tries to press an edge of something more into their kiss she pulls away.

 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice demands.

 

He flinches, "I wanted to. I thought I was keeping you safe."

 

She snorts, "Obviously not." He looks actually wounded and MJ wants to take it back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

 

"Yes, you did," Peter nods. "You did, and I deserve it. I should have told you. I should have protected you better. I thought...I thought after Thanos....not everything in my life had to be about Spider-man. I wanted you for Peter. I didn't wanna share you with him."

 

"You talk about it like you're two different people."

 

"Maybe I am," he says seriously. "I have to share Spider-man with everyone. I don't get to be selfish as Spider-man. But I get to be selfish as Peter. And Peter is just for me and my family and friends...and you."

 

"You are Peter Parker and Spider-man. If I'm dating one, I'm dating the other. You shouldn't have lied to me."

 

His jaw shakes, "I love you. God, MJ, I love you. If anything had happened..."

 

"It didn't," MJ reassures him. Her heart is blooming and quivering and hurting but mostly it fills with all of the possibilities from today. She remembers sitting in that chair thinking she was going to die. Perhaps she would have and then all of this dumb dialogue about him lying would be mute. "I love you, too."

 

He kisses her. It feels old and familiar but new and exciting. This is a dance they've done for a few months now. His body knows hers. It didn't take them long, once they actually started dating, to know each other intimately. Aunt May spends Thursday nights at her boyfriend's house that she pretends Peter doesn't know about. And so she and Peter began to spend Thursday nights in his room giggling and learning one another. 

 

But its never felt desperate before. Usually, they laugh and chat the whole way through. It's fun and light-hearted and eager but this time does not have any of that humor.

 

Peter crowds her against the shower wall and kisses her fierce. She's surprised how much space he manages to take up even though he's a touch shorter than her. 

 

 

She mewls into his mouth and he pulls her up around his waist. She's suddenly aware that there are no clothes between them. Her whole body radiates with warmth that isn't from the shower. 

 

But she isn't sure Peter has quite figured out how naked they are because he is kissing her neck. Reverent and dedicated. When his lips find the knick from the knife his tongue runs along the divot of the cut. He kisses it for good measure.

 

MJ tightens her trim legs around his waist. He surges up to kiss her mouth. 

 

"Peter," her voice is breathy, "Come on."

 

"I'm not," his voice is equally strangled, "I'm not going to do this in a shower. Do you know," he nips at her ear, "how many shower sex related injuries there are a year?"

 

She laughs, "Is this what you and Ned google in study lab?"

 

His keeps one hand on her hip to keep her upright but his free hand struggles for the water nozzle and he turns it off. 

 

The room is a lot colder without the steam from the shower. Her nipples pebble and Peter eyes them. He grins up at MJ and kisses her collarbone.

 

With her wrapped around them, Peter navigates them to her bedroom. Once she realizes what he's about to do, she shrieks, "Peter, not on my bed. We'll get the comforter all wet..." Her back hits the fabric and she groans in exasperation. "Look what you did."

 

"I'll wash your sheets tomorrow," he nearly waves off, his lips creating a pathway down to her breasts. He takes his time on each pebbled nipple, rolling them over in his mouth and kneading the spare one with his free hand. 

 

Michelle's hips roll upwards against him. This game is growing tired and anxious. She wants more than he's giving her. But Peter's path down her chest does not stop at her breasts. He follows it lower and lower until he's between her legs and then takes a long swipe up her slit.

 

She recalls the first time he'd done this. He'd been so eager and so misguided. Everything was too much stimulation or too little. Like he had read the comments of a porno one time and was like this is how oral is supposed to go. But now, he knew how to make her toes curl. The right amount of pressure, his fingers in tow, Peter was an expert at Michelle's body. 

 

He licked and sucked at the nub at the top of her legs. She rolled out a sob in delight. He anchored her hips to the bed with his hands and Michelle could feel that warmth begin to build. She was chasing the impossible dream that Peter always gave her. 

 

What she said, how long he was down there flicking his tongue and pumping his fingers in and out of her like a well-practiced dance, MJ wasn't sure.

 

Finally, it boiled over. Her toes curled in the wet burst of color. Her back arched off her bed and Peter did not relent. He dutifully worked her all the way through her release. And when she was done, her body drenched with sweat and water from the shower, Peter crawled his way up her body and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

 

Possessed, MJ dragged his mouth down to hers. They kissed slow and savagely until Peter reached between them and grabbed Peter's swollen member. If it were any other day she would have taken her time with him, perhaps cracked a few jokes, but his eyes were pooling into hers. She knew what he was thinking and so she guided him into her wet heat. 

 

He collapsed on his elbows to each side of her head and the two let this feeling swell over them for a moment. Once he bottomed out in her, she whispered against his mouth, "You saved me."

 

"I almost didn't," his voice was wrecked. Either from sadness and terror or pleasure, she wasn't sure.

 

So she kissed him, "But you did." She punctuated that with a measured roll of her hips. "And I'm here, you idiot."

 

He gave her an open mouth kiss and met her hips with a long, deep stroke of his own. They created a slow and steady rhythm. "I don't know what I would've done," he whispered. The admission wounded him further.

 

"You would've been fine," she moaned into his kiss.

 

"No," his voice was strong. He hoisted her leg up higher to drive himself deeper into her. "I don't want to live in a world without you, MJ."

 

"No more secrets."

 

"No more secrets," he agreed.

 

She threw her head back at his ministrations. Each stroke grew quicker and more stunning than the last. She felt her eyes start to flutter shut as they found their climax. MJ first, then Peter.

 

After, they lay caught up in each other's arms. MJ nuzzled his chin and whispered, "What did Tony Stark want to talk to you about?"

 

"You," he did not hesitate. 

 

"What about me?" she rolled her eyes. 

 

He was not as carefree. Serious Peter had made another appearance, "He said I had to consider if I was going to let you go or not."

 

"What?" MJ sputtered.

 

"The only way to really keep you safe is to let you go. Let you live your life without me."

 

MJ cocked an amused eyebrow, "And instead of discussing that....your plan was to have sex?"

 

For the first time all day, Peter's boyish glint returned to him. His smile was broad and bright, "You didn't seem to mind."

 

"Relax, male ego." Peter laughed and MJ's heart cracked open.

 

"I told you, Peter Parker is selfish. I'm not gonna let you go unless you want me to." Some insecurity seeped through his next words, "You don't want me to, right?"

 

"No, I let everyone I want to break up with go down on me."

 

He laughed again and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Are we good, then?"

 

She snuggled up against his chest. "Great." 

 

Then, after a beat she added, "Spider-man is still my least favorite Avenger."

 

"What?" he gasped, "Why?"

 

"He's a loser."

 

His lips turned up in a smile, "But you love him anyway?"

 

"He's growing on me."


End file.
